The Heroes of Icemist (SmallBeginnings 2)- Interlude update 2/21/2008!
- Thread starter Enk&D'Shai
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Enk&D'Shai
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1) He grills a mean steak.
2) He promised to send us money when he's rich and famous.
3) If he was DM, he would let Enk start over at 3rd level each time we reached 12th level so that he would never have to experience high level gaming.
4) He distracts Fett so we don't have to write all the time.
5) He would game with us if he didn't live so far away.
What in the name of the Cow God are you doing?
I’m making a list.
6) He would pick us up from soccer practice if we played.
7) He spellz better than we do;
8) and his grammer is more better two.
9) He doesn't always smell of fish.
10) He doesn't touch our dice.
That’s the strangest looking grocery list I’ve ever seen.
That’s no grocery list. It’s a space station!
Riiiiight.
OK, you got me. It’s a list of reasons we like Rel.
I think I liked it better when it was a grocery list.
11) He never takes the last Chocolate Twizzler.
12) He doesn't touch the inside of our glass while it still have beverage in it.
13) He's always up for a Star Crunch ninja-star fight.
14) He always wears pants at the gaming table.
15) He would never make lewd comments about our dating our Mom if she divorced our father, even if we didn't have to call him Dad.
What’s sad is that you actually had to put that on the list.
Hey, that lady was MILF material if I ever saw it.
Alright, finish up with the last five so we can get one with it.
Five? Now way. Our percentile dice never have enough to do, so we’ve got another 85 before we’re done.
You do know we’re not going to get through all that before I have to head home for dinner, right?
I’ve got Pizza Rolls.
Oooh! Pizza R… wait a minute, these are a knock-off brand.
They’re still good.
And they’re not even pizza rolls – they’re those nasty cheeseburger eggroll things.
They’re better than they sound.
And they expired 14 months ago. And why do they have “Break bag in case of Enk” written on them?
Well would you look at that. Look at the time. Too bad you have to be going now.
What about your list?
I guess we’ll just have to let the readers finish it. Buh-bye, now!
Hey, I gave these to you last fall!
Would you like a brownie Enk?
Ooooh! Brownies!
Tip of the Day: Brownie mix found in a 10 year old storage locker is only suitable when baking for friends.
*****
“Worm, that’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Pack’s voice carried over the still waters of the underground lake, leaving Theo with the uncomfortable feeling that if he could hear the brothers’ disagreement, others could as well.
“Yes it is. You’ve taken his side, just like always.”
“What do you mean ‘just like always?’ That’s the most foolishest thing I’ve ever heard. And that’s…”
“Pack, it’s not like I think he actually killed all those wizards. Even if I was dumb enough to think he could be in two places at once, he’d be no match for them – you’ve seen him fight. But this whole thing reeks of that stinking Ionian’s fate catching up to him, and we’re getting caught in the middle.”
“Things don’t work that way, Worm. The stories always say…”
“Hells, Pack! We’re not in some bard’s tale!”
Theo looked back over his shoulder toward the woodsman and the scout on the far shore, their forms bathed in the orange light of a brace of newly lit torches. If they heard the half-orc’s outburst, they didn’t show it. Time to put an end to this ruckus. “Lads!” he called, more loudly than he intended; he heard the flapping of a score of wings above him in the blackness. “Help me get this boat ashore. I need to stretch before I paddle us back.”
Worm waded out into the dark water to meet the priest. “So what’s the word, Theo?” The bear-owl’s glowing collar, now wrapped around one of the warrior’s beefy biceps, gave the brawny young half-orc a menacing red aura. He had taken it as a trophy for ‘doing all the hard work’ in killing the beast. He had also attempted to take the thing’s head, but Ashrem dismissed the idea out of hand, not parting with Razor long enough for the half-orc to accomplish the grisly job.
“There’s a temple.”
“What kind?” asked Pack from the shore. “Is it big? Old? Oh, I know! I bet it’s got gargoyles all over it, just like in…”
“Not quite,” said Theo as he stepped carefully out of the boat, “though it looked like it was covered with all sorts of stone carvings and reliefs. Ander is hoping you might be able to place some of them to give us a better idea of what we are facing before we enter.”
“Bah!” said the half-orc. “What’s there to know? Either the girl is in there or she’s not. Either way, if something nasty is in there we put it down for the Long Winter.”
“It might not be that easy, lad,” said Theo as he stretched his legs. And you should know better after that trap you set loose in that shack. “There’s something here I don’t trust. Something that my bones tell me can’t be fought with steel and sinew. Hopefully Pack will be able to tell us.”
“What about Aurora,” asked Pack as he clambered over the side of the boat, “any sign of her?”
“Ashrem caught her smell again right after we hit the shore. She went in the temple. Ander and he think there were a group of them, but Ashrem couldn’t place the scent of the others.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Ashrem always knows what things smell like. Even when we fought those monsters last fall he…”
“I know lad,” said the cleric as he stepped aboard the little boat again. “But he’s been tight lipped about it. Better get aboard now, Worm. There’s no telling how deep this water gets.”
“Good call,” answered the half-orc as he pushed the boat off the shore and hoisted himself in with a smooth motion. The warrior took up nearly the whole of the craft. “Huh,” he said, “I guess Stupid was right after all. We’d have never all made it in one trip.”
“Who?” asked Theo.
“You know, Dung for Brains,” he said as he took the paddle from the older man and started paddling with long and very effective strokes. “The scrawny southerner with the twig who’s going to get us all killed.”
“Can’t you talk about anything else?” cried Pack, throwing his arms up in the air. “It’s like you’re one of those birds that we saw three Festivals ago, repeating the same thing over and over.” Pack lowered his voice and stuck out his chest, bobbing his head back and forth as he continued, “’Ander is stupid. Ander’s a bad person. Ander’s a…’”
“Don’t make me give you a swimming lesson, Pack.”
“Quiet, both of you!” grumbled Theo. “Now’s not the time to be biting at each other’s backs. Your mother raised the two of you better than that.”
“Sorry, Theo,” said Pack quietly while Worm avoided the priest’s eyes.
The cleric shook his head and sighed, “You two squawk at each other like a pair of old stormcrows.”
“We get the idea, Theo,” grumbled Worm, “you don’t have to play the harpy.”
“Let’s just get to shore,” said Pack, “I’m getting anxious to see this temple you were talking about.”
With that, the trio settled into restless silence, broken only by the rhythmic splash of a paddle in water.
***
The distinctive sound of Theo’s voice carried over the water. Whatever they’re arguing about I wish they’d just finish it. This is ridiculous, thought Ander. “Anything new over there, Ash?”
“These tracks make little sense, Ander. I count no fewer than two-score left feet, yet only a third as many right. Worse, Aurora’s is the only distinct scent.” The scout gave a throaty harrumph, “It is, in a word, baffling. It is also very frustrating.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if it was on purpose. It’s an old trick for masking numbers.”
“Explain.”
“Well, take rabbits for example. Back home, there’s a hare that circles trees and then retraces its steps. Plays all kinds of havoc on the hounds tracking them. One time I saw a pair of hounds bay at an empty tree for an entire afternoon thinking a hare was in the roots.”
“Hmm. You believe this trail was laid purposefully to misdirect us?"
“Maybe not us, but definitely someone,” Ander shifted in his crouch and ran a finger over a footprint. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing, too. Only a handful of people would have recognized Aurora’s tracks. See this dragline here? She fidgets when she’s nervous…” The Ionian let the statement fade. That’s a lie. She does it when she’s scared. I swear, if those double-damned bastards have hurt her…
“Skill like this is often accompanied by prowess.”
“True. The man who taught me the trade used to say, “Tough trails lead to tougher prey.”
“You are starting to sound like Brother Theobald.”
“I wish. That old man’s as solid as a rock. I’m just fighting the urge to bay at an empty hare’s nest. What’s taking him so long, anyway?”
The scout peered into the darkness. “He should be returning shortly, along with Pack, and Worm. Ander, I don’t think it wise to allow him to continue to…”
“Not now, Ash,” Ander said with a sigh. “Just, not now.”
“You will eventually have to address the issue. His insubordination has already become…”
“This isn’t an army, Ash,” Ander barked angrily, “and last time I knew you didn’t care too much for following rules yourself.” The woodsman watched as his friend slowly turned his back and walked toward the entrance of the temple.
“I pay the price for that every day, Andru Pindanon,” hissed the feloine, “and you would do well to remember it.”
Hells. “I’m sorry, Ash, that was low. Especially with what Brandimere…” He could not bring himself to complete the thought. “I’m sorry.”
The scout never stopped moving. “Learn from my mistake, Ander. Loyalty to one’s leader is a shield in times of need, for both the leader and the led. Take it up, before it is too late, and defend it, for it may one day save our lives.”
Now who sounds like Theo.
***
Ander paced impatiently in front of the stone doors while halfing and feloine examined the entryway. Pack occasionally extended a hand only to have the scout clamp down on his small wrist, but the work proceeded quickly despite the bard’s curiosity. “What do you make of it, Pack?” he finally asked.
“Huh? Oh, well, it’s old, Ander, and looks like it took a lifetime to carve these scenes in the stone. And it’s sort of icky, what with all the slimey mold and fungus. And if you look over here you can see this whole sea god motif. It even has mermaids with naked…”
“Can you get me to the other side?” Ander’s voice sounded strained, even to himself.
“What?”
“I believe that Ander is not making himself clear,” said Ashrem, looking askance at the woodsman with what looked like worry. “I have found several places that look as if they are, or perhaps were, traps meant to trigger when this doorway is opened. Worse, these doors have a noticeable lack of handles, and the doors themselves seem to swing outward. Ander and I had hoped you could shed some light on the matter, as these symbols and figures are not familiar to either of us.”
“Oh! I get it, now. Let me see…” Pack stepped back and forth, following the carvings of the temple, talking absentmindedly all the while. “If this place is as old as I think it is, that one with the mountain on his shoulders is probably Atta the Strong, which makes this Ulmo of the Deep Waters.”
“I’ve heard those names before.” said Worm, seemingly interested for the first time.
“They’re from that song Mother made us learn for her birthday four summers ago.”
Worm groaned, “Maiden’s Kiss? You have to be kidding.”
“No, really! I had one of the minstrels at Festival that fall tell me where it came from. She said it was very old, from when the gods had different names.”
“So that guy with the fourteen arms is Apis-Hai? Does that mean that the Maiden is the girl with the big…”
“It seems so,” interrupted Theo. Ander could hear the disapproval in his rumbling voice. “And it’s not polite to talk with your hands like that.”
“What? It’s my fault that the gods were overly generous to the girl?”
“Hey! Look! In the song, Apis-Hai swoops down and captures the Maiden in his chariot, and see?” Pack pushed the fourteen-armed idol along a hidden track down to the more buxom relief. “It moves! This is great! I wonder what else moves on this thing.”
“Wait,” said Ashrem, moving in front of the bard, “This Apis-Hai’s path had left a handhold. With some time, I think I might be able to…”
“No,” said Ander. “No more waiting. Worm, can you open it?”
“I ought to make you open it yourself,” said Worm as he brushed past both Ashrem and Pack and laid two hands on the stone. “It’s your girlfriend in there.”
“Just open it!”
The half-orc grunted as he pulled. “One of these days, runt, we’re going to have a talk,” he said it through clenched teeth, and heaved backward, “about who’s in charge here!” Then something snapped deep in the stone and the door ground and groaned its way open. A cloud of dust billowed out, fanned by an unknown source, and Ander heard several twangs, clicks, and whirrs from within. The woodsman rushed in without hesitation.
“Aurora!” he called, only to breathe in a chest full of the ashy dust and cough uncontrollably. He slipped the edge of his cloak over his face and examined the room through teary eyes.
The dust had already begun to settle over the long benches that lined either side of the temple. At their head, an old stone pulpit lay on its side, torn from the elevated mooring on the back wall. In front of it, a red liquid had spread across the floor.
Even from a distance, Ander could see the blood was still wet.
“Blech! What is that smell?” said Pack from behind the woodsman.
“That, Pack, is the stench of a demon,” answered Ashrem; “the only sort of demon that could be described as tolerable.” Ander glanced over toward the scout. The feloine’s blades were already drawn, and Ander nodded approvingly.
“A dead one,” said Theo. His voice left no doubt as to whether or not it was a question.
“Check it out,” said Ander as he made straight for the scarlet stain. Please be alright, please be alright, please be… He crouched as he approached the patch and put a finger to it. It was still tacky to the touch. Can’t be older than this morning. “Ash, come up here when you get free.”
“Certainly,” said Ashrem from directly behind the ranger, continuing quickly enough that the Ionian wondered if everyone could read him as well as his friend. “It is not hers,” he said quietly.
The woodsman let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “Are you sure?”
“Quite.” The scout laid a hand on Ander’s shoulder. “I believe that when she left here, she was alive.”
“I’ve got to find her, Ash.”
“We will.”
“Where’s the bodies?” Worm’s voice came from the center of the aisle.
“What’s that, lad?” rumbled Theo.
“Where’s the bodies? Two of these long seats have broken backs, there’s scorch marks on three others, and I see at least six different gouges that look to have come from a deflected sword or axe. Whatever it was, it was strong, too – this wood is thick.” The young warrior patted the cracked lumber, “I’d like to see whatever could do this.”
“Hey, look what I found!” said Pack. Ander stood and strode toward the halfling, whose feet were dangling out from underneath one of the benches. “Eww! This stinks.” The ranger was the last to arrive to the small circle around the bard. “And it’s all slimy and gritty. And why do I feel lightheaded all of the sudden?”
Theo and Ashrem moved as one to take the halfling by the legs, yanking him from underneath the bench. Pack was still clutching his prize: a long, semi-feathered forearm and hand. The talons on the six fingers would have made an eagle proud. “That’s the source of the stink, lad. Drop it now, before you breathe too much of the reek.”
“This is a demon arm, isn’t it?” asked Ander as he turned back toward the stain on the floor, giving only half an ear to the ongoing conversation behind him.
“It is,” Ashrem answered, pausing only to take the limb from Pack’s hands and toss it away. “I would advise that you cleanse your hands and face on our way away form this place.”
“Why?”
“Because the stuff will kill you if you let it, lad. I saw enough good men die on the field from the Dust to know.” The woodsman passed by the tacky pool and began sifting through the rubble of the pulpit looking for tracks.
“But what’s the Dust?” As the ranger approached the space between the wall and the pile of broken stone, he noticed an equally broken archway set in the blank wall. Its interior was likewise blank. The keystone was Apis-Hai, with seven arms holding a spear on one side. The other had been destroyed, but a real spear had been set in its place and loosely tied to the arch.
“It is the foulness left by demons as they decay,” said Ashrem. “This sort, the detritus left by the Vrock, is the worst.”
“I wonder if it’s magic?” said Pack in a sing-song voice that quickly turned to humming. The hum became a shout when Ander reached for the spear in front of him. “Ander! Don’t touch it! It’s a portal!”
Ander jerked his hand back as if the spear was a viper. “A what?” He heard Theo mutter a quick prayer behind him.
“Thunder, but the lad’s right. I haven’t seen anything like it since the Night of Five Doors. Someone used the spear as a power source for it. I didn’t think anything like that was possible, but there it is.”
“And there that is, too!” cried Pack, rushing toward the wall. “See that discoloration there! That’s what’s left of one of Aurora’s missles! I can see her melodies all over it!”
“So she’s alive?” said Ander. “Quick, can you get us through this portal? We might still be able to catch her!”
“I’m afraid not, lad,” said Theo with a shake of his head. “Even if we could find the right magical conduit for it, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Blood and bones!” shouted the woodsman, slamming his staff into a nearby statue, knocking it to the ground with a clattering thump. I’m so close. I’M SO CLOSE!
Suddenly Theo was at his side, his hand on his shoulder. Ander could feel the tingles in the iron grip. “We know she’s alive, lad. There’s no way that a warband able to fight and kill a vrock, without losing a man would leave her if they went to all the trouble of taking her in the first place.” The cleric’s grip loosened, and the woodsman felt a tug on his pant leg.
“Why don’t we head back to Theo’s temple, like we planned,” said Pack. “Getting back to where we can see the sky will do us all a lot of good.”
Ander nodded numbly, and headed for the door.
2) He promised to send us money when he's rich and famous.
3) If he was DM, he would let Enk start over at 3rd level each time we reached 12th level so that he would never have to experience high level gaming.
4) He distracts Fett so we don't have to write all the time.
5) He would game with us if he didn't live so far away.
What in the name of the Cow God are you doing?
I’m making a list.
6) He would pick us up from soccer practice if we played.
7) He spellz better than we do;
8) and his grammer is more better two.
9) He doesn't always smell of fish.
10) He doesn't touch our dice.
That’s the strangest looking grocery list I’ve ever seen.
That’s no grocery list. It’s a space station!
Riiiiight.
OK, you got me. It’s a list of reasons we like Rel.
I think I liked it better when it was a grocery list.
11) He never takes the last Chocolate Twizzler.
12) He doesn't touch the inside of our glass while it still have beverage in it.
13) He's always up for a Star Crunch ninja-star fight.
14) He always wears pants at the gaming table.
15) He would never make lewd comments about our dating our Mom if she divorced our father, even if we didn't have to call him Dad.
What’s sad is that you actually had to put that on the list.
Hey, that lady was MILF material if I ever saw it.
Alright, finish up with the last five so we can get one with it.
Five? Now way. Our percentile dice never have enough to do, so we’ve got another 85 before we’re done.
You do know we’re not going to get through all that before I have to head home for dinner, right?
I’ve got Pizza Rolls.
Oooh! Pizza R… wait a minute, these are a knock-off brand.
They’re still good.
And they’re not even pizza rolls – they’re those nasty cheeseburger eggroll things.
They’re better than they sound.
And they expired 14 months ago. And why do they have “Break bag in case of Enk” written on them?
Well would you look at that. Look at the time. Too bad you have to be going now.
What about your list?
I guess we’ll just have to let the readers finish it. Buh-bye, now!
Hey, I gave these to you last fall!
Would you like a brownie Enk?
Ooooh! Brownies!
Tip of the Day: Brownie mix found in a 10 year old storage locker is only suitable when baking for friends.
*****
“Worm, that’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Pack’s voice carried over the still waters of the underground lake, leaving Theo with the uncomfortable feeling that if he could hear the brothers’ disagreement, others could as well.
“Yes it is. You’ve taken his side, just like always.”
“What do you mean ‘just like always?’ That’s the most foolishest thing I’ve ever heard. And that’s…”
“Pack, it’s not like I think he actually killed all those wizards. Even if I was dumb enough to think he could be in two places at once, he’d be no match for them – you’ve seen him fight. But this whole thing reeks of that stinking Ionian’s fate catching up to him, and we’re getting caught in the middle.”
“Things don’t work that way, Worm. The stories always say…”
“Hells, Pack! We’re not in some bard’s tale!”
Theo looked back over his shoulder toward the woodsman and the scout on the far shore, their forms bathed in the orange light of a brace of newly lit torches. If they heard the half-orc’s outburst, they didn’t show it. Time to put an end to this ruckus. “Lads!” he called, more loudly than he intended; he heard the flapping of a score of wings above him in the blackness. “Help me get this boat ashore. I need to stretch before I paddle us back.”
Worm waded out into the dark water to meet the priest. “So what’s the word, Theo?” The bear-owl’s glowing collar, now wrapped around one of the warrior’s beefy biceps, gave the brawny young half-orc a menacing red aura. He had taken it as a trophy for ‘doing all the hard work’ in killing the beast. He had also attempted to take the thing’s head, but Ashrem dismissed the idea out of hand, not parting with Razor long enough for the half-orc to accomplish the grisly job.
“There’s a temple.”
“What kind?” asked Pack from the shore. “Is it big? Old? Oh, I know! I bet it’s got gargoyles all over it, just like in…”
“Not quite,” said Theo as he stepped carefully out of the boat, “though it looked like it was covered with all sorts of stone carvings and reliefs. Ander is hoping you might be able to place some of them to give us a better idea of what we are facing before we enter.”
“Bah!” said the half-orc. “What’s there to know? Either the girl is in there or she’s not. Either way, if something nasty is in there we put it down for the Long Winter.”
“It might not be that easy, lad,” said Theo as he stretched his legs. And you should know better after that trap you set loose in that shack. “There’s something here I don’t trust. Something that my bones tell me can’t be fought with steel and sinew. Hopefully Pack will be able to tell us.”
“What about Aurora,” asked Pack as he clambered over the side of the boat, “any sign of her?”
“Ashrem caught her smell again right after we hit the shore. She went in the temple. Ander and he think there were a group of them, but Ashrem couldn’t place the scent of the others.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Ashrem always knows what things smell like. Even when we fought those monsters last fall he…”
“I know lad,” said the cleric as he stepped aboard the little boat again. “But he’s been tight lipped about it. Better get aboard now, Worm. There’s no telling how deep this water gets.”
“Good call,” answered the half-orc as he pushed the boat off the shore and hoisted himself in with a smooth motion. The warrior took up nearly the whole of the craft. “Huh,” he said, “I guess Stupid was right after all. We’d have never all made it in one trip.”
“Who?” asked Theo.
“You know, Dung for Brains,” he said as he took the paddle from the older man and started paddling with long and very effective strokes. “The scrawny southerner with the twig who’s going to get us all killed.”
“Can’t you talk about anything else?” cried Pack, throwing his arms up in the air. “It’s like you’re one of those birds that we saw three Festivals ago, repeating the same thing over and over.” Pack lowered his voice and stuck out his chest, bobbing his head back and forth as he continued, “’Ander is stupid. Ander’s a bad person. Ander’s a…’”
“Don’t make me give you a swimming lesson, Pack.”
“Quiet, both of you!” grumbled Theo. “Now’s not the time to be biting at each other’s backs. Your mother raised the two of you better than that.”
“Sorry, Theo,” said Pack quietly while Worm avoided the priest’s eyes.
The cleric shook his head and sighed, “You two squawk at each other like a pair of old stormcrows.”
“We get the idea, Theo,” grumbled Worm, “you don’t have to play the harpy.”
“Let’s just get to shore,” said Pack, “I’m getting anxious to see this temple you were talking about.”
With that, the trio settled into restless silence, broken only by the rhythmic splash of a paddle in water.
***
The distinctive sound of Theo’s voice carried over the water. Whatever they’re arguing about I wish they’d just finish it. This is ridiculous, thought Ander. “Anything new over there, Ash?”
“These tracks make little sense, Ander. I count no fewer than two-score left feet, yet only a third as many right. Worse, Aurora’s is the only distinct scent.” The scout gave a throaty harrumph, “It is, in a word, baffling. It is also very frustrating.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if it was on purpose. It’s an old trick for masking numbers.”
“Explain.”
“Well, take rabbits for example. Back home, there’s a hare that circles trees and then retraces its steps. Plays all kinds of havoc on the hounds tracking them. One time I saw a pair of hounds bay at an empty tree for an entire afternoon thinking a hare was in the roots.”
“Hmm. You believe this trail was laid purposefully to misdirect us?"
“Maybe not us, but definitely someone,” Ander shifted in his crouch and ran a finger over a footprint. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing, too. Only a handful of people would have recognized Aurora’s tracks. See this dragline here? She fidgets when she’s nervous…” The Ionian let the statement fade. That’s a lie. She does it when she’s scared. I swear, if those double-damned bastards have hurt her…
“Skill like this is often accompanied by prowess.”
“True. The man who taught me the trade used to say, “Tough trails lead to tougher prey.”
“You are starting to sound like Brother Theobald.”
“I wish. That old man’s as solid as a rock. I’m just fighting the urge to bay at an empty hare’s nest. What’s taking him so long, anyway?”
The scout peered into the darkness. “He should be returning shortly, along with Pack, and Worm. Ander, I don’t think it wise to allow him to continue to…”
“Not now, Ash,” Ander said with a sigh. “Just, not now.”
“You will eventually have to address the issue. His insubordination has already become…”
“This isn’t an army, Ash,” Ander barked angrily, “and last time I knew you didn’t care too much for following rules yourself.” The woodsman watched as his friend slowly turned his back and walked toward the entrance of the temple.
“I pay the price for that every day, Andru Pindanon,” hissed the feloine, “and you would do well to remember it.”
Hells. “I’m sorry, Ash, that was low. Especially with what Brandimere…” He could not bring himself to complete the thought. “I’m sorry.”
The scout never stopped moving. “Learn from my mistake, Ander. Loyalty to one’s leader is a shield in times of need, for both the leader and the led. Take it up, before it is too late, and defend it, for it may one day save our lives.”
Now who sounds like Theo.
***
Ander paced impatiently in front of the stone doors while halfing and feloine examined the entryway. Pack occasionally extended a hand only to have the scout clamp down on his small wrist, but the work proceeded quickly despite the bard’s curiosity. “What do you make of it, Pack?” he finally asked.
“Huh? Oh, well, it’s old, Ander, and looks like it took a lifetime to carve these scenes in the stone. And it’s sort of icky, what with all the slimey mold and fungus. And if you look over here you can see this whole sea god motif. It even has mermaids with naked…”
“Can you get me to the other side?” Ander’s voice sounded strained, even to himself.
“What?”
“I believe that Ander is not making himself clear,” said Ashrem, looking askance at the woodsman with what looked like worry. “I have found several places that look as if they are, or perhaps were, traps meant to trigger when this doorway is opened. Worse, these doors have a noticeable lack of handles, and the doors themselves seem to swing outward. Ander and I had hoped you could shed some light on the matter, as these symbols and figures are not familiar to either of us.”
“Oh! I get it, now. Let me see…” Pack stepped back and forth, following the carvings of the temple, talking absentmindedly all the while. “If this place is as old as I think it is, that one with the mountain on his shoulders is probably Atta the Strong, which makes this Ulmo of the Deep Waters.”
“I’ve heard those names before.” said Worm, seemingly interested for the first time.
“They’re from that song Mother made us learn for her birthday four summers ago.”
Worm groaned, “Maiden’s Kiss? You have to be kidding.”
“No, really! I had one of the minstrels at Festival that fall tell me where it came from. She said it was very old, from when the gods had different names.”
“So that guy with the fourteen arms is Apis-Hai? Does that mean that the Maiden is the girl with the big…”
“It seems so,” interrupted Theo. Ander could hear the disapproval in his rumbling voice. “And it’s not polite to talk with your hands like that.”
“What? It’s my fault that the gods were overly generous to the girl?”
“Hey! Look! In the song, Apis-Hai swoops down and captures the Maiden in his chariot, and see?” Pack pushed the fourteen-armed idol along a hidden track down to the more buxom relief. “It moves! This is great! I wonder what else moves on this thing.”
“Wait,” said Ashrem, moving in front of the bard, “This Apis-Hai’s path had left a handhold. With some time, I think I might be able to…”
“No,” said Ander. “No more waiting. Worm, can you open it?”
“I ought to make you open it yourself,” said Worm as he brushed past both Ashrem and Pack and laid two hands on the stone. “It’s your girlfriend in there.”
“Just open it!”
The half-orc grunted as he pulled. “One of these days, runt, we’re going to have a talk,” he said it through clenched teeth, and heaved backward, “about who’s in charge here!” Then something snapped deep in the stone and the door ground and groaned its way open. A cloud of dust billowed out, fanned by an unknown source, and Ander heard several twangs, clicks, and whirrs from within. The woodsman rushed in without hesitation.
“Aurora!” he called, only to breathe in a chest full of the ashy dust and cough uncontrollably. He slipped the edge of his cloak over his face and examined the room through teary eyes.
The dust had already begun to settle over the long benches that lined either side of the temple. At their head, an old stone pulpit lay on its side, torn from the elevated mooring on the back wall. In front of it, a red liquid had spread across the floor.
Even from a distance, Ander could see the blood was still wet.
“Blech! What is that smell?” said Pack from behind the woodsman.
“That, Pack, is the stench of a demon,” answered Ashrem; “the only sort of demon that could be described as tolerable.” Ander glanced over toward the scout. The feloine’s blades were already drawn, and Ander nodded approvingly.
“A dead one,” said Theo. His voice left no doubt as to whether or not it was a question.
“Check it out,” said Ander as he made straight for the scarlet stain. Please be alright, please be alright, please be… He crouched as he approached the patch and put a finger to it. It was still tacky to the touch. Can’t be older than this morning. “Ash, come up here when you get free.”
“Certainly,” said Ashrem from directly behind the ranger, continuing quickly enough that the Ionian wondered if everyone could read him as well as his friend. “It is not hers,” he said quietly.
The woodsman let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “Are you sure?”
“Quite.” The scout laid a hand on Ander’s shoulder. “I believe that when she left here, she was alive.”
“I’ve got to find her, Ash.”
“We will.”
“Where’s the bodies?” Worm’s voice came from the center of the aisle.
“What’s that, lad?” rumbled Theo.
“Where’s the bodies? Two of these long seats have broken backs, there’s scorch marks on three others, and I see at least six different gouges that look to have come from a deflected sword or axe. Whatever it was, it was strong, too – this wood is thick.” The young warrior patted the cracked lumber, “I’d like to see whatever could do this.”
“Hey, look what I found!” said Pack. Ander stood and strode toward the halfling, whose feet were dangling out from underneath one of the benches. “Eww! This stinks.” The ranger was the last to arrive to the small circle around the bard. “And it’s all slimy and gritty. And why do I feel lightheaded all of the sudden?”
Theo and Ashrem moved as one to take the halfling by the legs, yanking him from underneath the bench. Pack was still clutching his prize: a long, semi-feathered forearm and hand. The talons on the six fingers would have made an eagle proud. “That’s the source of the stink, lad. Drop it now, before you breathe too much of the reek.”
“This is a demon arm, isn’t it?” asked Ander as he turned back toward the stain on the floor, giving only half an ear to the ongoing conversation behind him.
“It is,” Ashrem answered, pausing only to take the limb from Pack’s hands and toss it away. “I would advise that you cleanse your hands and face on our way away form this place.”
“Why?”
“Because the stuff will kill you if you let it, lad. I saw enough good men die on the field from the Dust to know.” The woodsman passed by the tacky pool and began sifting through the rubble of the pulpit looking for tracks.
“But what’s the Dust?” As the ranger approached the space between the wall and the pile of broken stone, he noticed an equally broken archway set in the blank wall. Its interior was likewise blank. The keystone was Apis-Hai, with seven arms holding a spear on one side. The other had been destroyed, but a real spear had been set in its place and loosely tied to the arch.
“It is the foulness left by demons as they decay,” said Ashrem. “This sort, the detritus left by the Vrock, is the worst.”
“I wonder if it’s magic?” said Pack in a sing-song voice that quickly turned to humming. The hum became a shout when Ander reached for the spear in front of him. “Ander! Don’t touch it! It’s a portal!”
Ander jerked his hand back as if the spear was a viper. “A what?” He heard Theo mutter a quick prayer behind him.
“Thunder, but the lad’s right. I haven’t seen anything like it since the Night of Five Doors. Someone used the spear as a power source for it. I didn’t think anything like that was possible, but there it is.”
“And there that is, too!” cried Pack, rushing toward the wall. “See that discoloration there! That’s what’s left of one of Aurora’s missles! I can see her melodies all over it!”
“So she’s alive?” said Ander. “Quick, can you get us through this portal? We might still be able to catch her!”
“I’m afraid not, lad,” said Theo with a shake of his head. “Even if we could find the right magical conduit for it, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Blood and bones!” shouted the woodsman, slamming his staff into a nearby statue, knocking it to the ground with a clattering thump. I’m so close. I’M SO CLOSE!
Suddenly Theo was at his side, his hand on his shoulder. Ander could feel the tingles in the iron grip. “We know she’s alive, lad. There’s no way that a warband able to fight and kill a vrock, without losing a man would leave her if they went to all the trouble of taking her in the first place.” The cleric’s grip loosened, and the woodsman felt a tug on his pant leg.
“Why don’t we head back to Theo’s temple, like we planned,” said Pack. “Getting back to where we can see the sky will do us all a lot of good.”
Ander nodded numbly, and headed for the door.
Jon Potter
First Post
Thanks for the update, guys! I really like the dynamic between each and every one of the characters. Really great stuff!
Okay. Let's see...
16) Whenever I've played in one of his games, he's never killed my character.
How's that?
Enk&D'Shai said:
Okay. Let's see...
16) Whenever I've played in one of his games, he's never killed my character.
How's that?
Rel
Liquid Awesome
I think that puts us back on 16.
Impressive update as usual. In case I haven't said it before, one of the things you guys totally excell at is injecting story and characterization into scenes that I've seen some Story Hour authors (myself most definately included) gloss over in one small paragraph. Bravo as usual and I hope you gain a bit of momentum and post more updates soon. It's always a pleasure to read.
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